The Warlock's Curse (28 page)

It didn’t particularly, and Will was about to say so when Jenny released a little squeal of alarm. She put a hand over her mouth.

“Criminy,” she whispered. “They’re heading you off at the pass.”

Will was utterly lost. “What?”

“What if they’ve already been working on something similar? Maybe it isn’t finished yet, maybe they’re not ready to submit it for a patent ... and if you got there first, all the work they’d put into it would be lost. So they
deliberately
sent us through the Dimensional Subway, knowing that it would destroy your prototype.”

“That’s a lot of what-ifs,” Will scoffed. “It’s also possible that they simply didn’t foresee what would happen, just like I didn’t.”

“Maybe so,” allowed Jenny. “But then again, if that’s the case, why didn’t they set you to work rebuilding your Flume immediately? They were so interested in it before.”

Will couldn’t explain that. He thought about Roher—Court had said that the two of them were pursuing the same lines of research. Could Roher have come up with something like the Flume? But if Roher already had the answers, why would he have taken such an immediate dislike to Will?

Jenny took a deep breath. “Whatever the explanation, it’s a good thing I got these while I was downtown.” She showed him a box full of drafting paper, mechanical pencils, India ink, rulers and protractors. “The man at the scientific supply house said it was everything you’d need to draw up schematics for a patent.”

“More than enough,” said Will, looking over the extravagant collection. Jenny set the box in his lap.

“Good. We’ll start tonight. We’ll have to work fast!”

“Jenny, I’m exhausted!” Will protested. “A fellow needs his rest! Besides, drawing up schematics can’t just be done in a couple of nights.”

“The papers have to be submitted before the end of the year to be technically filed in 1910 ... and of course all the offices will be closed the week before Christmas. So we have to send everything off by the end of next week at the latest.”

“There’s no way!” Will wailed.

“Where there’s a Will there’s a way!” she said, clearly very pleased with her own brilliant wit. She put a mechanical pencil into his hand. “I’ll go put on a pot of coffee.”

It was almost 3
A.M.
when Will finally stumbled into bed. As exhausted as he was, there was one last thing he had to do before he turned off the light. He pulled out Ben’s letter, and discovered that news—especially in the Edwards family—traveled fast.

Dear Will:

Earlier today, I was notified by the bank in Detroit that the account I funded on your behalf has been drawn upon, which means you have arrived. Which is wonderful, and I extend my sincere congratulations. However, I don’t know what to make of the bank’s report that it was a woman—claiming to be your wife and producing a marriage certificate to prove it—who came in to withdraw the funds.

I am left wondering just what the holy hell is going on. Who is this mystery woman? Is she part of a ruse you cooked up to avoid detection? If so, I guess I’m glad that you’re following my advice to “be careful”—but why, exactly, do you feel the need to be careful with me?

Here there was a break in the line of the text. It was clear that Ben had resumed the writing after some passage of time.

Well.

Just got a letter from our mother.

She has explained the situation to me, and I guess I don’t need to tell you that she is in an all-fired rage. Clearly, you followed my instructions on how to block her Sending, for the fact that she’s been unable to reach you is one of the major points of her fury.

What could have possessed you to marry Jenny Hansen? Don’t you know that’s just added insult to injury? It was one thing for you to go to Detroit against our parents’ wishes, but at least that was just a family matter and they might have pursued it quietly. But now you’ve brought D.L. Hansen and all his money into the mix! Don’t you know how many detectives a timber fortune can buy?

Let me put this plain. You must send Jenny home. Telegraph Mr. Hansen immediately, tell him where his daughter is, then get the hell out of the way. And while you’re at it, telegraph me too, and let me know that you’ve done it, because I won’t be able to rest until I know that you have.

If you value my advice even a little, please do exactly as I say.

Your brother always,

Ben

Will folded the letter away. He lay with his arm over his eyes, the pressure soothing his headache.

He considered the situation. If he telegraphed Mr. Hansen as Ben suggested, and let him know where Jenny was, it would indeed take care of many of the problems currently facing him—Jenny’s worrying secrecy, her taskmaster ways, the resentment of his fellow apprentices. It might even placate his parents into calling off their attempts to drag him home.

A little charge of fury made him frown. Why did his parents insist on seeing his actions as those of a spoiled child, instead of those of a man trying to choose his own destiny? Really, they were the ones who had forced him into this stupid corner. If Father had just let him go to Tesla Industries as he’d wanted, none of this would have happened. He wouldn’t have had to make this bargain with Jenny. He wouldn’t be forced to make this horrible choice—between protecting his own best interests and being disloyal to her.

He felt very low.

But wasn’t that the true measure of a man, he thought? That he held to the bargains he made, no matter what? And he
had
struck a bargain with Jenny. They’d spit-shaked on it, and she’d held up her end of the deal in every particular. If he sent her back he would be acting just like the spoiled child everyone thought he was. A spoiled child who’d made a childish mistake and was now trying to avoid a whipping.

No. He couldn’t give Jenny up, no matter how many problems it would solve for him. It would be disloyal and unfair. They’d find a way to make this work. Lay low, avoid anyone who might be looking for them. D.L. Hansen might be rich, and Father and Ma’am were surely implacable—but he and Jenny, they were
smart
. He would stick by her like she’d stuck by him.

“For better or for worse,” he concluded, and then almost immediately fell asleep.

Chapter Ten

The Scientist’s Apprentice

23
DAYS UNTIL THE FULL MOON

W
ill’s first week at Tesla Industries was a blur. Having grown up on a farm, Will was no stranger to hard work and long days, and having struggled his way to the top of his class at the Polytechnic, he knew how taxing intense mental activity could be. But the level of effort required of him at Tesla Industries was orders of magnitude beyond anything he’d ever experienced.

His first challenge had been simply comprehending what Grig’s enormous uncompleted machine, hunkering like a steel behemoth in one half of Building Three, was built to
do
. Grig, always running from meeting to meeting, had shoved reams of schematics and wiring diagrams into Will’s hands (as if that should be sufficient for Will to decipher the machine’s function) but it wasn’t until after lunch on Tuesday that Grig finally had time to explain it to him.

“As you know, Will, one of the great challenges we Otherwhere Engineers face is the limited number of Golden Dimensions,” Grig began. Will nodded, knowing well enough that only about two hundred such dimensions—Otherwheres with physical laws sufficiently compatible with their own native dimension to allow for safe exploitation—had been discovered.

“But what if we could create entirely
new
Otherwheres?” Grig said softly, eyes sparkling. “Create them to our own specifications, from the ethereal scratch? Create them, and then when we are through with them ...” He kissed his fingers to his lips. “Poof. Destroy them.”

“Create dimensions?” Will blinked. “Actually ... create them?” He cast his mind back through the schematics Grig had given him—and in an instant all of the functions that had seemed so puzzling when regarded out of context made perfect sense. Sure, he thought. Of course. That’s what the machine
had
to do.

Seeing the light of understanding on Will’s face, Grig smiled.”Clearly, the thrilling possibilities are not lost on you,” he said. “So, have you thought up a name?”

“What?” Will said absently, still working through the incredible implications in his mind. Custom building a dimension to one’s own specifications! As long as the basic physical laws remained compatible, one could specify everything one wanted in it—including limitless amounts of energy, without even the need to build any kind of power plant ...

“A name!” Grig broke through his thoughts. “This machine needs a name! I told you that yesterday.”

Will certainly didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t understood what the machine was supposed to do until just two minutes prior. He licked his lips and threw out the first name that came to mind:

“The Dimensionator.”

Grig was silent for a long time, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Will heard a snuffled snort from where Roher was sitting across the room.

“I don’t know,” Grig averred. “I’m not sure if Mr. Tesla will like it.”

Will’s heart sank to his shoes, but then inspiration struck him. Remembering the conversation he’d had with Court, he lifted a finger and said:

“The
Tri
-Dimensionator.”

Grig’s eyes widened.

“Oh, yes!” he breathed. “That’s
it
.”

“Now
that
was brilliant,” Court said, the next time they were able to sneak off to the little hideout in the laurel hedge. “Tri-Dimensionator! Maybe you should have gone into advertising instead.”

“Nothing doing,” Will snorted, not even looking up from the dissertation that he’d brought out with him. Grig had asked him to write an abstract by the end of the day, and it was hard slogging. “Thanks for the advice.”

“No problem,” Court said. “Listen, I’ve got a way you can pay me back. I need to use your mailbox.”

“My mailbox?”

Court rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Sounds silly, doesn’t it? Here all the other fellows are jealous because you have your own apartment and a warm willing wife waiting in it. But what I’m really jealous of is your
mailbox
.”

Lowering the dissertation, Will looked at him quizzically. “I don’t follow you.”

“There’s a book I need,” Court said in a low voice. “And I can’t have it sent here. Can I have it sent to you? I’ll tell you a secret about Roher if you say yes. Something that will help you knock the wind out of him.”

“I don’t know,” Will said, though the idea of getting dirt on Roher sounded especially attractive. “I don’t want the mailman gossiping to my landlady about delivering me a stack of Tijuana Bibles.”

“Oh for God’s sake, it’s not
pornography
.” Court snorted smoke out through his nose. “Trust me, there are two things that I know how to get ahold of inside this high-security prison—the finest of smokes and the bluest of literature. But there’s one thing I can’t get ... and that’s what I need your help for.”

“So, what is it?”

“Well, you know I’m a geophysicist, right? That’s what Tesla and Grig keep me around for. But what I’m really interested in is The Great Change of 1878. You know about the Great Change, right?”

“Not much,” Will said. “I know that no one really knows why it happened.”

“Apparently, there is one man who does,” Court says. “And he wrote a book explaining it. It’s called
The Goês’ Confession
. It’s scarce as hen’s teeth, and it’s almost impossible to get a copy. Apparently there’s some mysterious ‘Agency’ that destroys the books whenever they can find them. But whoever they are, they can’t destroy them all, and there’s a whole underground network of people who keep printing them so the truth can be known.”